‘When my father lost the factory, he was forced to run. Everyone thought he’d abandoned me. But he hadn’t. He came back… as Ola.’

  ‘So how did he end up in prison?’

  Max shrugged. ‘Father Christmas loves ex-cons. It’s that soppy “second chance” thing of his. So Dad threw a snowball at a Police Elf and refused to apologise. That got him his ticket to D Wing – and eventually a job with Father Christmas.’

  ‘So he could steal toys? It doesn’t make sense.’

  Max shook his head and smiled. ‘This isn’t about a few toys. This is about revenge.’

  ‘Revenge for what? I don’t understand.’

  ‘Oh, I think you do. I think you understand better than anyone. You of all people know what it’s like to be looked down on,’ jibed Max. ‘Father Christmas took everything from us: our home, our factory, our self-respect. And now he’s going to pay.’

  Max was now hanging up the trousers: the suit was complete.

  ‘Father Christmas didn’t take those things! Your father lost them, through his own greed!’

  Holly stirred, and Max glanced across at her. ‘Those toys we stole, that was just a test. To see if this –’ he smirked, holding up the Fake Father Christmas suit – ‘would convince people that Dad was the real Father Christmas.’

  A horrible thought struck me. Was that why Max had befriended Holly – so that he could get closer to Father Christmas?

  I watched helplessly as Max uncorked the jar of fairy dust and took a pinch between his finger and thumb.

  ‘We’re going to steal Christmas. At nine o’clock tomorrow night, we’re going to get on that sleigh, and fly away with every single present. This year, not one single child will get a gift from Father Christmas. They’ll never trust him again. And then, once his name is dirt, and all the children in the world are desperate for toys, we’ll set up our own online toyshop and sell the lot. Father Christmas will be history and we’ll make a fortune!’ He threw his head back and cackled.

  ‘You can’t do this, Max!’ I protested. ‘Children asked for those toys on their Christmas lists, and we made them specially, with love! You can’t just sell them!’

  Holly half opened one eye.

  ‘Where am I?’ she mumbled.

  Max opened the lid of Holly’s box, and sprinkled in a pinch of fairy dust. Holly’s head lolled forward, and she fell straight back into a deep sleep.

  ‘Sorry, Tog,’ said Max cheerily. ‘Time’s ticking. I need to get you ready for the courier.’ He held up two rolls of wrapping paper. ‘I’ve only got these two. Which do you prefer? Christmas trees, or plain?’

  ‘Christmas trees, please,’ I replied.

  ‘Plain it is,’ said Max, lifting the lid of my box.

  I saw a cloud of sparkles, then everything went dark…

  Wednesday 24 December

  I awoke to a strange clacking sound, as if a pixie was playing a tiny pair of castanets.

  It was my teeth chattering.

  I was still in the display box, bound tight, and I was freezing.

  I tried to see out, but soon realised that my box had been covered in plain brown paper. I could just about make out a crescent moon through it.

  The penny dropped.

  I was on Ola’s doorstep. And Max was about to steal Christmas!

  I had to escape.

  ‘Holly? Holly!’

  Silence.

  ‘Holly, are you there?’

  ‘Tog!’ Holly’s muffled voice was faint beside me.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Fine. Bit of a headache, but fine.’

  I breathed a sigh of relief.

  ‘Okay, great. Next question: are you wearing a watch?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Quarter to nine!’

  I winced. The whole of Christmas Eve had passed. By now the Delivery Elves would be loading the sleigh, as the exhausted Workshop Elves rushed to finish the last few precious presents!

  We had fifteen minutes to get out of our parcels and stop Max from stealing Christmas!

  I rattled through everything I knew, though I left out the bit about Max using Holly to get close to Father Christmas. She didn’t need to hear that.

  ‘There’s only one thing for it!’ she said, and then shouted: ‘HELP!’

  ‘HELP!’ I yelled, joining in.

  But the only answer was the wind.

  And a dog barking.

  Wait. It couldn’t be?

  The dog barked again.

  Socks!

  I put my fingers in my mouth, rolled back my tongue, and made the special whistle we have for calling Socks. Inside the box it sounded deafening. Would Socks hear it too?

  Another bark, louder this time!

  ‘SOCKS!’ I bellowed. ‘SOCKS!’

  I heard footsteps in the nearby snow, and suddenly there was Socks’s nose, pressed up against the brown paper.

  ‘Over here!’

  It was Plum’s voice!

  ‘Plum, it’s me – Tog! I’m in this parcel!’

  The paper above me ripped in two, and Plum’s face appeared, lit by the moonlight.

  ‘Tog! We’ve been looking everywhere for you! Everyone knows you’ve escaped from jail – there are sleighs out all over the North Pole searching for you.’

  Soon Leaf, Twig and Pin were tearing off Holly’s wrapping and mine, and opening up our display boxes.

  The only problem now was the fastenings. As everyone knows, they are impossible for any child to open.

  Luckily Bo and Bay arrived.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ reassured Bo. ‘We’ve got this. We’re always untangling laces at the ice rink.’

  We were free! But there was no time to lose.

  ‘Bay, Bo, Leaf, Twig, Pin, Plum and Socks!’ I yelled. ‘Thank you all so much. But Holly and I have to go and save Christmas!’

  ‘Be careful,’ warned Bay.

  ‘Take Oscar!’ piped Plum, holding up her lemur. ‘He’ll look after you.’

  It seemed like the least I could do, so I tucked Oscar in my tunic and vaulted up to the roof. Holly uncloaked the drone, and I hopped on behind her. Then we took off into the night!

  The sleigh was surrounded by cheering Christmas Elves

  We raced over the ice rink, full of young elves skating by torchlight. Then we banked left towards Christmas House. There below us was the sleigh, laden with presents, surrounded by hundreds of cheering Christmas Elves.

  We dropped like a stone, down, down, down…

  Then stopped dead behind the sleigh, just a few metres from the cobbles.

  Father Christmas was in the driving seat, with his back to us, waving goodbye.

  On the back of his hand, between his thumb and index finger, was a tattoo of two criss-crossed candy canes.

  ‘STOP, THIEF!’ I bellowed.

  But the elves were cheering too loudly to hear me.

  ‘STOP, THIEF!’

  Only one elf turned.

  It was Max.

  He jumped up beside Fake Father Christmas, and whispered something in his ear. Fake Father Christmas turned and looked at us and I saw Ola’s cold grey eyes looking out from behind the beard. He gathered the reins, and with a ‘YAH!’ the sleigh lurched forward, scattering elves left, right and centre.

  ‘THAT’S NOT FATHER CHRISTMAS!’ I barked. ‘HE’S A FAKE!’

  But it was too late. The reindeer were gathering pace, arcing around the courtyard and up into the night sky!

  ‘So long, suckers!’ screeched Max.

  ‘Let’s get them!’ shouted Holly.

  ‘Wait!’ I cried. Seeing the reindeer had reminded me of something: the slurry pit, where all their poo got dumped. ‘Head for the stables!’ I yelled. ‘I’ve got an idea!’

  Holly did as I asked.

  ‘Go as low as you can,’ I called. ‘I need to dip Oscar’s tail in the pit.’

  With expert precision, Holly guided us down to the bubbling, putrid surface. I felt bad for Plum, but I had no choice. In went Oscar’s tail, then off we flew!

  I have never moved so fast as we did on that drone. At least to begin with. No sooner did we have Fake Father Christmas in our sights, than he started to slip away.

  ‘Faster!’ I yelled. ‘We’re losing him!’

  ‘I’m trying! We’re running out of battery!’

  ‘How long have we got?’

  ‘I don’t know!’ yelled Holly. ‘Maybe seconds!’

  We were inching closer now. Max glanced over his shoulder, his eyes widening as he saw us. His hand disappeared into his jacket pocket, and just in time I realised what he was up to!

  ‘Holly, watch out!’

  We swerved sharply, just missing a glittering cloud of sparkles!

  Max was throwing fairy dust!

  Holly swerved again, as another cloud of dust burst out – and another.

  ‘We’ve got to get in front of them!’

  Her face set with determination, Holly manoeuvred us out from behind the sleigh, and came up alongside it. There was nothing Max could do now; his fairy dust had blown away on the wind. All he could do was watch helplessly as we edged closer.

  ‘Go for it!’ shouted Holly, and I grabbed Oscar the lemur by the nose, holding him behind me so that his body stretched out like a streamer, his stinky tail dancing on the wind. Little by little, Holly worked the controls until Oscar’s super-whiffy tail was right in front of Ola’s nose.

  ‘PHWOOAARRR!’ howled Ola.

  Ola and Max both recoiled, as the heady scent of rotting reindeer poo filled their nostrils.

  ‘EUUURRGGHH!’ wailed Max.

  ‘I’M GOING TO BE SICK!’ gasped Ola, letting go of the reins. Presents began to tumble off the back of the sleigh as it pitched and rolled.

  ‘CALL IT OFF! CALL IT OFF!’ squealed Max.

  I had to get control of the sleigh! ‘BRING ME IN CLOSER!’ I yelled to Holly.

  Oscar’s toxic tail snaked back and forth, and Ola and Max retreated, holding their noses. I turned so I was facing backwards, then leaped on to the front of the sleigh!

  ‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!’ bellowed Ola. ‘YOU’RE RUINING EVERYTHING!’

  I flicked Oscar’s tail into his face, and grabbed the reins.

  ‘Rudolph!’ I called into the wind. ‘It’s me, Tog!’

  ‘Tog! What are you doing here?’

  ‘Saving Christmas! We need to go back to base. That okay with you?’

  ‘One hundred per cent,’ called Rudolph. ‘Guys!’ he bellowed to the other reindeer. ‘This is Tog, and he wants us to go back to the workshop. Understand?’

  All eight reindeer grunted in unison.

  ‘See?’ shouted Rudolph. ‘You were right. I speak my truth, and they hear it.’

  ‘Follow me!’ called Holly, and she started to bank the drone.

  ‘WAIT!’

  It was Max. Both he and Ola had hankies over their noses.

  ‘Come with us, Tog! We’ll need a frontman. We can call our shop Tog’s Toys. You can sell those whatsits you make, polecats…’

  ‘Lemurs,’ I corrected.

  ‘Whatever. You’ll be famous the world over, and rich beyond your wildest dreams. It’s better than going back to the workshop, believe me.’

  ‘Never,’ I said.

  ‘Trust me, the second that Father Christmas gets hold of you, you’ll be back on D Wing.’

  For a split second, I panicked. What if Father Christmas didn’t believe me? What if I ended up back in prison?

  ‘No,’ I said firmly. ‘What you’re doing is wrong. And somewhere, deep inside, you know that. Both of you. These toys are going back to Father Christmas, and he’s going to make sure that all the children of the world get their presents!’

  And with that, I gave Oscar a shake, so that his pooey tail slapped wetly on both their faces.

  ‘Tog!’

  It was Holly! She was flying beside me as we headed back towards the North Pole!

  ‘We did it!’ she roared. ‘We saved Christmas!’

  Thursday 25 December

  After that, everything ran like clockwork.

  Rudolph took us back to Christmas Place, where Holly’s dad, the real Father Christmas – having been found knocked out with fairy dust and locked in his study – was waiting with Steinar. The Prison Guard Elves that had been scouring the village for me took no time in arresting Ola and Max, and Holly and I spent the rest of the evening drinking hot chocolate in the control room as we watched the sleigh visit every child on the Good List, delivering presents.

  The sleigh visited every child, delivering presents

  All in all, one of the better Christmas Eves I’ve spent.

  This morning it was business as usual, watching my younger brothers and sisters open their presents.

  ‘I hope you’ve thanked your brother,’ said Dad.

  ‘You wouldn’t have any toys at all if it wasn’t for him,’ added Mum.

  ‘THANK YOU, TOG!’ chorused Leaf, Twig, Pin and Plum.

  ‘Yeah, well done,’ grinned Bo.

  ‘Our boss at the ice rink said you can skate for free any time,’ offered Bay.

  And, of course, I gave Oscar back to Plum, freshly laundered by the Christmas Jumper Elves. Even she had to admit he smelled better than he had for a while.

  Then it was a quick dash over to Father Christmas’s lodge for the Annual Celebration Dinner, where Father Christmas voted Holly and me Christmas Elves of the Year for saving Christmas. As I said in my speech, it was like a dream come true.

  Afterwards, Father Christmas tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, ‘I’ve got someone who’d like to meet you, if you don’t mind?’

  I looked down to see his grandson Sprig, dressed in his finest red velvet and holding the lemur I had made for him.

  ‘Can I have your autograph?’ he squeaked.

  ‘Of course,’ I said with a wink.

  ‘Thanks,’ whispered Father Christmas. ‘You’ve made one grandfather extremely popular. And by the way, handmade toys are going to be a bigger part of operations next year. Machines have their place, but you know the most important ingredient in a toy?’

  ‘Stuffing!’ piped Sprig.

  ‘I was thinking of love,’ chuckled Father Christmas. ‘But have it your way.’

  But as happy as all that made me, it was nothing next to the news that Holly wanted to partner me in the Boxing Day Pairs Competition!

  Tomorrow morning we’re going out to the glacier first thing, so we can practise without anyone watching.

  I’m going to have to learn Max’s part, which is really tricky, so wish us luck!

  I’ll let you know how it went.

  More from the Author

  How I Became a Dog Called Midnight

  The Day I Fell Into a Fairytale

  The Boy Who Made the World Disappear

  The Night I Met Father Christmas

  Keep reading for a preview of

  The Night I Met Father Christmas

  by

  Ben Miller

  Chapter One

  When I was small, one of my friends said something really silly. He said that Father Christmas didn’t exist.

  ‘So where do all the Christmas presents come from?’ I asked him. He didn’t have an answer.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘It’s just something my older sister told me.’

  ‘Who comes down the chimney and eats the mince pies and drinks the brandy?’ I asked. ‘Who rides the sleigh?’

  My friend was silent for a while.

  ‘You know what?’ he said. ‘You’re right. I don’t know why I brought it up. Do you want to play marbles?’

  That night, I had trouble getting to sleep. I had won the argument, but my friend had planted a tiny seed of doubt in my mind. What if Father Christmas wasn’t real?

  As Christmas approached, I began to ask myself all sorts of worrying questions: who was Father Christmas? Why did he bring presents? How did he deliver them all in one night? How did it all start?

  I made up my mind that there was only one way to find out the truth. I had to meet Father Christmas, face to face.

  Of course, I didn’t tell anyone about my plan. My parents would have tried to stop me, and my twin sisters would have wanted to tag along, even though they were much too young. This was a serious operation and I couldn’t risk it going wrong.

  Finally, Christmas Eve arrived, and my parents came up to kiss me goodnight.

  ‘Do you know what day it is tomorrow?’ asked my mother, her eyes twinkling.

  ‘Is it Wednesday?’ I asked, pretending not to care.

  She looked at my father, who shrugged. ‘Yes, darling,’ she said, trying to maintain an air of suspense. ‘It is Wednesday. But it’s also Christmas Day.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘I’m not really that interested in Christmas.’

  ‘Really?’ said my father. They both looked very disappointed, and for a very brief moment I felt bad for tricking them.

  ‘It’s okay, I suppose,’ I said, ‘if you like presents and chocolate and sweets and things like that, but I prefer to work through a few maths problems while listening to classical music.’ And then I faked a big yawn and closed my eyes.

  ‘Whatever makes you happy, darling,’ said my mother, sounding worried. They kissed me goodnight, switched out the light, and went downstairs.

  I lay there in the dark, with my eyes closed, listening. I could hear my sisters in their bedroom down the hall, talking in their own special made-up language, which only they could understand. Usually, when I heard them talking like that it made me feel a bit left out, but not tonight, because I knew that I was doing something very special.

  Eventually, my sisters fell quiet and the house suddenly seemed very deep and dark. I could hear the low murmur of my parents talking downstairs, but soon that stopped too, and then the stairs creaked as they made their way up to bed.

  I knew they might look in on me, so I acted as if I was fast asleep.

  ‘Goodnight, little man,’ my father whispered, as he gently moved my head back on to the pillow and pulled the covers up to keep me warm. Then I smelled my mother’s perfume as she gave me a kiss. The door closed, and I heard their footsteps crossing the landing to their bedroom.